You Don't Know You're Beautiful
by Eliros
Summary: Love is strong. But can it conquer all?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I originally planned for this to be a one or a two shot, but then I woke up in the middle of the night and suddenly had an idea that could only be turned into a fic, so that's what this attempt's supposed to be. I'm not sure how many chapters it will have, nor do I know if I'll increase in length of chapters (although that's very likely), and I certainly haven't got a clue whether my update rate will be... _decent_.**

**And, please, if you think this shouldn't be turned into a fic, because it just sucks, then please let me know; it's way past midnight here and too late for me to judge whether this isn't just 1,7K words of bullshit.  
**

**Having that said, I hope you enjoy at least some part of it.  
**

* * *

_Slide to the right. Step. Step. Turn. No, a spin. Watch your arms. That's better. Three steps to the left. Body roll. Arms. Shoulders. Legs._

The boy kept a close watch on everything he ordered his body to do, correcting himself whenever he could.

Dancing wasn't as relaxing as usual. He was too preoccupied, nervous, couldn't find the right mood that would just make him let go and turn his mind off for even just a little while.

He had a hard time dealing with the pressure, even though he'd grown up around the feeling and should've been used to it by now. Well, he wasn't. And the feeling had only worsened when he got into college – even though a big weight had been lifted off his shoulders now that he didn't live under the same roof as his father anymore. Turned out college presented him with an equal amount of pressure, if not more.

Ignoring the nagging voice inside of his head that told him he should just call it a day and start off fresh tomorrow, he continued dancing. He hoped it'd finally have a different outcome and he'd actually manage to make his feet do the right moves, instead of living their own life.

_Step. Knee slide. Hands. Shoulders, dammit, keep them in control. Kick. Step. Step. Spin. Legs! Would you just focus already?_

"Hey." The dancer was cut off from mentally scolding at himself as he was interrupted by a familiar voice. And he was glad with the distraction, knowing he wouldn't have stopped practicing for at least another hour if he hadn't been interrupted. He would've gone completely mad if he had to endure another hour of repetitively making the same mistakes.

Stopping immediately, he turned around to face the owner of the voice, although he already knew perfectly well who it belonged to. "Sam. Hey, man."

"Looking good," he nodded appreciatively, referring to his friend's dancing skills.

The boy shrugged, "I'm having an off day, to be honest."

_More like an off week_.

It was then, as he shook his head and let out a sigh, that Mike picked up on the approaching ticking noise. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, casting a look at his friend as if the boy had the answer as to what the hell was making that noise.

Sam smiled in response, turning his head to the right and stepping out of the way to reveal a second visitor, who came to a halt as Sam called him out and touched him lightly on the shoulder to make him stop.

"Mike, this is Blaine. Blaine, this is the dancer I told you about." He gestured for Mike to come closer, and the boy did so, but not after some briefly staring that lasted for a few seconds. The newcomer was surely a looker, and even Mike – who wasn't really focused on anything besides college right now and seemed oblivious to any of his surroundings – took note of that.

"Hi," Mike cleared his throat, trying to keep from staring too long. He couldn't help himself. The boy seemed friendly, smiling broadly, and looked rather normal apart from the fact that he was wearing a pair of sunglasses inside a room where sunglasses weren't particularly needed and was clutching onto the end of a... Wait. Was he... ?

Before he even got the chance to ask himself that question, Sam nodded, like if he was listening in on his friend's inner-monologue, flashing him some kind of warning as if to tell Mike to act like he normally would.

Well, that explained the sunglasses. He wondered why he hadn't put one and one together at the first instant. Wasn't it kind of obvious that-

"Hello. It's nice to meet you, Mike. Sam has told me a lot about you," the curly haired boy smiled warmly.

Mike was shaken out of his thoughts by the pleasant voice that came from the guy. Realizing it was his turn to speak, he opened his mouth, hoping his words wouldn't hastily tumble from his lips and leave him looking like an idiot. Not that it mattered what he looked like in this case, because-

"It's nice to meet you too... Blaine," the name left his mouth hesitantly, "I hope he hasn't told you anything too embarrassing about me."

Blaine let a laugh fall from his lips and _damn_, for a moment all Mike could do was stare and try to get the quickening pace of his heartbeat under control at the heartfelt sound that the boy had produced. "Don't worry, I think there were only one or two embarrassing stories among the praising ones."

"I can live with that," he said, managing some kind of chuckle.

When it seemed that all three of them weren't planning on breaking the silence, Mike shuffled on his feet uncomfortably and cleared his throat, "So, Sam, to what do I owe this pleasure? Aren't you supposed to be in class or something?"

Sam shook his head, "Teacher came down with a case of the flu, _mom_."

Mike rolled his eyes.

"I just wanted to introduce you to Blaine, that's all. We've known each other since childhood. Neighbors. Grew up together. We were just going for a coffee to catch up and, sorry, but I should take this call," he ended the sentence, trailing off as he took his ringing phone out of his jeans pocket and read the caller's name that was displayed on the screen. He muttered an excuse and turned around to leave, pressing his phone against his ear as he greeted whomever was calling him.

Down by two, the silence prolonged. Mike continued shuffling on his feet, unconsciously wriggling his fingers and looking everywhere but toward the boy as he felt it was rude to stare, even though said boy wouldn't even be able to see. Blaine's head was downcast, lightly gripping onto his cane and biting his lip. Mike felt guilty, knowing that he was making the boy uncomfortable because it was almost inevitable to _not_ get affected by his uncomfortableness. But not guilty enough to disrupt the silence.

"So Sam told me you're a great dancer."

After shrugging and blushing slightly, Mike shook his head, "I'm really not that good. Sam's just biased. He _has_ to say stuff like that, because we're friends."

And another laugh filled the room and _dear God_, Mike's breath hitched in his throat and his eyes widened and-

The shorter boy must have picked up on Mike's - as he worded it so nicely in his head, because he was nothing if not honest about himself - idiotic behavior, because a worried frown worked its way up his face and he bit his lip. "Is it something I said? Or... ? You seem uncomfortable."

"Oh, no, no! Don't think it's because of you!" And by now he was waving his hands frantically as if that would help his case, "I'm just - that's just me."

"It's okay, you know," Blaine shrugged, placing both of his hands on his cane, a small smile tugging at his lips, "It happens, something you can't prevent. I've grown used to it by now, I can't _see_ them, but I can definitely _feel_ their stares and the cloud of unease that hangs around them."

Mike shook his head, realizing that wouldn't do any good, so instead he tried to find the right words, "It's _really_ not because of... _that_. I'm often like this around new people." He wondered why he couldn't say the word out loud.

"It's true, you know," Sam chipped in, in his ever so cheery voice, his face displayed a grin that would normally fall of ones face, but somehow managed to stay plastered to the blond's features because it was used to the constant smiling. "You should've seen - well, heard - him when I first met him."

Blaine chuckled at Sam's add-on to Mike's explanation, his head casting downwards as he did so, making a curl escape his hairdo and fall down his forehead. It took the dancer a hell lot of effort to keep from staring again, but he wasn't sure _why_.

"So, err, we should go, Blaine," Sam frowned, curiously glancing over at Mike and wondering why the guy was acting more strange than usual. The dancer was glad he didn't ask anything, though, because he was currently asking himself the same thing.

The boy nodded and showed a tentative smile as he lifted his head and looked straightforward to where Mike's voice had come from. He held out a hand, and Mike understood what his intention was. So he stepped forward, grasped the hand that was offered to him and the two awkwardly shook hands. It wasn't until Sam coughed and knitted his brows together that both of them dropped their respective hand to their side and some of the awkward tension disappeared.

"_Right_," the blond declared, shaking his head idly, "Let's go. See you later, Mike."

In return, Mike waved his friend goodbye and gave himself permission to let his eyes linger over to the other one for just a few seconds. "It was nice to meet you, Blaine."

"It was nice to meet you too. Good luck on your dancing." After beaming one last smile, the two of them left the room, leaving the dancer alone with his thoughts and the remainders of the awkwardness.

_Well, that was weird. And rude, on _your_ behalf. Way to go, Mike, I think you scared him off_.

To stop himself from over-analyzing - or analyzing at all, for that matter - their meeting, he turned to the mirror and tried recalling where he had left off before Sam had barged in. It was of no use, he couldn't for the life of him remember. Which, evidently, led him to start over from the beginning and memorizing the steps to the routine he'd been failing to perfect for days now. The prior encounter only helped keeping up the strings of failure, and Mike was left slapping himself over the head with the fact that maybe he just wasn't good enough to compete with the other dancers he shared classes with.

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**If you haven't figured out by now; yes, Blaine's blind. I'm planning on adding his back ground story later in the fic, and the next chapter is actually supposed to involve Blaine and Sam's meeting so that you already get a sneak peak of some of his youth before we go back to fed up Mike.**

**If you've read this far; thank you for your time, I appreciate it.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I wanted to have this uploaded way sooner, but I'm a queen at procrastinating, so, yeah, sorry.**

**I just wanted to note beforehand that I don't know anyone that's blind. I don't know the slightest thing about it myself, apart from the research I do. Excuse me if I make any crude mistakes or assumptions, and, please, correct me if I'm wrong.**

**I also don't use a beta, so I'm the only one that revises it before uploading. Maybe I should find a beta, depending on how many mistakes I make in this chapter, but I'll figure that out later.**

**Nonetheless; enjoy.**

* * *

As Blaine sat down on the chair Sam had directed him toward, he fiddled with his cane until it was neatly folded up and placed it onto the table in front of him. Adjusting his glasses and leaning his elbows onto the surface of the table, he pressed his fingertips together.

"I'll just assume you haven't changed your coffee order?" Sam asked, already knowing the answer before he'd fully laid out his question.

Raising an eyebrow, Blaine simply shook his head, "C'mon, you know us blind people, we like our habits, they keep us sane. And they also help when trying to avoid walking into a lamppost."

Even though the blond was fairly used to his friend's easy way of talking about his lack of vision and making jokes about it, all he managed was an uneasy smile. It always took him a few hours before he was used to it again and wouldn't feel bad about laughing as Blaine made another one of his infamous crude jokes.

"It wouldn't hurt to loosen up," Blaine suggested, lifting his hands in defeat because he always hoped things wouldn't start off tense every time they met after a brief period of not having exchanged a word. Of course, he was never granted his wish – it always took him at least five earnest comments before his friend wouldn't feel bad about cracking a smile at Blaine's joking.

Sam only let out a sigh and turned his back to Blaine, "I'll be right back."

"Take your time," the curly haired boy shrugged, smiling lightheartedly as he sunk down in his chair until he found the most comfortable pose that would make it possible to stay put for at least ten minutes. When he had more or less succeeded and was left with nothing else to do, his mind unintentionally wandered back to the event from earlier today.

After some of the stories he'd heard about Sam's friend, Mike, he couldn't help but wonder if the boy was really as energetic and crazy as Sam let him believe. He had no trouble believing it, actually, but the guy had been... taken aback when they'd met. It wasn't hard to feel the unease that drifted from him, and Blaine didn't even hesitate in calling the blame upon himself. He was used to it, and he wouldn't hold grudge against anyone for it, because, back when he still had the privilege to see himself in the mirror every morning, he would've done the same thing as the people staring at him now. Being on the receiving end of those looks – even though he couldn't see them, yes – took some getting used to. Nevertheless, it worked out in the end, and he no longer cringed when he felt someone burn holes holes into his back.

Mike had denied that Blaine was the reason for the dancer to feel uncomfortable. Blaine, of course, had just assumed he'd said that because the guy felt bad for him. But then Sam had gotten back from his phone call and affirmed that Mike was in fact quite awkward at any first meetings. Blaine wasn't sure why, but it had given him a strange glimmer of hope that maybe both of them were telling the truth and that the curly haired boy had absolutely nothing to do with Mike's nervous behavior, rather than that they just pitied him.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"Only if you hand me my latte." The quick retort was accompanied by a cheeky grin. He waited until he heard the squeak of a chair moving backward and the sound of two cups being placed onto the table, before placing his hands flat against the table – palms touching the plastic surface.

Sam pushed the cup in between the pair of hands and smiled, "You're welcome."

Blaine folded his fingers around the cup and let out a deep sigh, "Thank you, Samuel. Your help is _greatly_ appreciated."

"Sarcasm much?" And the blond brought the cup up to his lips and took a careful sip of his still very much boiling cup of coffee.

After showing a mock-offended face, Blaine huffed, "Excuse you? That wasn't sarcasm, I was being genuine."

"Yeah, yeah."

Being able to see wasn't needed in this case, the blind boy could almost hear his friend rolling his eyes, and laughed quietly at that.

The boys sipped at their coffee in silence for a while, before Sam decided to speak up. "So why are you here? Isn't the city a bit... crowded for you?"

Blaine shook his head, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "No sir, I've been here for two months now, actually. 's going great so far, to be honest."

Sam raised his brows in surprise at that new piece of information. He crossed his arms, "And you didn't see the necessity to let _me_, one of your best friends, if not best friend, know that you were here? You jerk." But he did smile, because Blaine's excitement was catching onto him, and all he really could manage was curiosity. Why was he here, anyway? And why for two months? He didn't– He couldn't- "Wait," he worded, "You don't _live_ here now, do you?"

The widening of his friend's grin was the only answer he got.

"I'll be damned... Anderson."

"Which, in Evans language, could be translated to '_I'm happy for you, dude. Congratulation_s'," Blaine nodded, gulping some coffee down his throat.

The blond guy merely shook his head, shrugging, "Yeah, well, you know me. So what is it that you do here?" And he furrowed his brows, because he didn't quite understand what a guy like Blaine could possibly want to do here.

Blaine hung his head, and Sam almost thought that he'd actually said the last part out loud, rather than keep it to himself. But then he noticed the new smile that was slowly settling onto the curly haired's face and then he knew that Blaine was in fact just trying to hide his growing excitement – although Sam couldn't quite understand why on Earth he was hiding it. As soon as he remembered that his friend had always been an enigma, and apparently hadn't changed over the years they'd spent apart, he sat back and waited patiently until the boy would speak up.

"So you know what my biggest passion is, right?"

Sam nodded. "How could I not? At least three quarters of our conversations lead to _that_."

If Blaine had been ashamed about it at all, he might've blushed, but he didn't bat an eyelash, "Three quarters? No way. Only half of them." He crossed his arms, "The other half is spent on _you_ talking about comic books and guitar playing."

"Like you mind. You love it, mister."

"Okay, okay, maybe I enjoy some of it," Blaine admitted with a smile. Truth was, he enjoyed all of it. His friendship with Sam had been the only thing after his accident that hadn't hardly changed. And to hear his friend talk about the most smallest things with such passion made him forget that some of those things wouldn't be within his reach anymore. That's why he hadn't pushed away Sam, like he'd done with most of his friends. Sam hadn't stopped treating him the same, he was still his normal self around the brunet.

Blaine wouldn't ever tell him, but some part of him actually lived through Sam.

Clearing his throat, Blaine seemed to remember that he hadn't explained what he was doing here, so he let out a deep sigh as if to prepare himself to break the news to the guy opposite of him. "Ready for the big news?"

"Always am," Sam nodded.

"So I got into Juilliard." After having said that, his face broke off into a ginormous grin and he suddenly wore a look of surprise as if he still had trouble believing it himself.

"What?" Sam wore a look of utter surprise, before breaking off into a wide grin himself, "Congratulations! I'm proud of you." He got up and pulled his friend into a short hug, before sitting back down and adopting a confused look.

How did that work, though?

He believed in Blaine. Always had. The guy could do anything with his strong willpower. But some things even he couldn't do.

"Explain," he finally said, not wanting Blaine to catch onto his skeptic side. "How does that work? And what do you study there, by the way?"

"Master of Music. Piano, of course. And, well, braille is how it works. It's a lot to explain, too much in one sitting. My parents have been at it longer than I was aware of. Made arrangements, had meetings. All behind my back. And then this summer," he shrugged, smiling carefully, "They came with the news."

"Awesome."

"You know it."

* * *

"So you live on your own, or... ?" Sam finally asked, after minutes of small talk.

Blaine nodded. "It was tricky, still is sometimes, but I'm slowly getting used to it. It's nice, living on my own. Finally don't feel like I'm a burden anymore."

"I'm sure they never thought of you as a burden," Sam said, contorting his face as he shook his head in disapproval.

The curly haired boy shrugged. "That'd only be because they wouldn't allow themselves to think like that. As if losing my ability to see would enhance my," he lifted both of his hands, forming quotation marks with both of his index and middle fingers, "superpowers." He chortled, shaking his head as he emptied his cup and put it down with a lot more force than was needed.

If it wasn't for the frown that was slowly settling upon his face, Sam wouldn't have known that it did get to Blaine, even though he pretended he was okay with it. The blond chose to keep his mouth shut about it, though. His friend would talk about it when he was ready.

And maybe he was ready now, because, after some brief hesitation, he continued. "And Cooper. Cooper has taken care of most of the issues concerning my new place. Probably out of guilt."

"Blaine..." Sam began, shaking his head once again, but the guy held out his hand to stop him.

"Sam, for God's sake, it really isn't hard to deduce he still can't let go of it. I have never blamed him for... _this_," and he pointed at his sunglasses and searched the table for his folded cane to touch it for a few seconds as if to reassure himself that it was still where he'd left it, "But he's a human being and human beings aren't too good when it comes to dealing with this kind of stuff. It wasn't anyone's fault. Or maybe I'm the one to blame. But it certainly wasn't _his_ fault and that tiny detail doesn't seem to stick in his thick head. And even if Cooper could have prevented it, do you think I would hold it over his head? No, I wouldn't. I'd _never_ do that. That's not who I am."

Blaine released his breath, not even sure when he'd first started holding it in, and crossed his arms.

Taking a few minutes to carefully formulate the right words, Sam broke the tense silence, "Maybe he owes it to himself."

The guy raised his brows, looking puzzled.

"He knows you don't blame him. But knowing that doesn't give anyone the certainty that the guilt will go away. Doing favors for you might help him cope with it. And have you ever thought about the possibility that it's normal for brothers to help each other out? Especially in your case. Just give him some time."

Blaine let out a sigh, "I've been blind for nine years now, Sam, I've given him plenty of time."

Deciding it would be better to change the subject immediately, the blond settled for a smile, "Enough of this. What'd you think of Mike?"

"Glad to see you're still smooth at changing subjects," Blaine commented. He too adopted a smile, glad to be talking about something else.

"Did you expect any less?" Sam grinned.

The guy shook his head, "Some things never change."

Sam only shrugged.

"I liked Mike," Blaine finally decided, seeming to have remember he owed Sam an answer. "He seemed a bit... nervous. Or uneasy. But he had a friendly voice, so I'm convinced he's as nice as you led me to believe. Hey, Sam, would you care to... ?"

The boy didn't even have to finish his request, as his friend already knew what he wanted to ask him. "Of course," he nodded, "My height, brown eyes, black hair, Asian... Suppose he's muscular, but built like a dancer, uh, he's definitely more elegant than I am, I – yeah."

Not sure how to continue, he shut up and shrugged again. Blaine, however, seemed content with the information he was provided with and smiled thankfully, constructing some sort of image in his head with the details he'd been given. He knew he'd never come close as to what the guy truly looked like, but he liked having something to go on if he ever got to meet Mike again.

"Don't be scared away by that awkward conversation, by the way. I think he's stressing out. He's always like that when he's stressed," the blond told him.

"Really, it's okay. I've had worse." Blaine's smile didn't falter as he thought back of the cloud of unease that had surrounded them, but he couldn't help but wonder if Sam had told him the truth. Normally, it was quite easy for him to detect a lie just by listening to his voice when it came to his friend, but because there was too much noise around them, he failed to deduce whether Sam was being honest.

He supposed it didn't matter whether he'd been given the truth or not. Really, what was the chance that he'd ever run into the dancer again? And even if they did, they didn't have to exchange a word. And Blaine completely understood that some would feel mildly uncomfortable around him, he didn't mind. Nor did he mind if people tried to assure him that he wasn't the one to blame.

That's what he repeatedly told himself, at least.

* * *

**How Blaine can possibly go to Juilliard will probably be explained a little more detailed in a later chapter. Again, these are all just my assumptions and whatever information I stumbled across during my research.**

**Next chapter will involve both Mike and Blaine and a probable next meeting (although that can still change).**


	3. Chapter 3

**So before you begin reading this, I'd like to make some things clear. In the last chapter I blatantly stated that it was Juilliard he'd been accepted to, simply because I'm not all that educated when it comes to any kind of colleges and it was the first one that came to my mind.**

**But now I've decided that maybe it'd be better to just create my own college, or so to speak. Well, no, actually, it will still be Juilliard, but as far its programs and setting and... whatever... go, that's just all my imagination. It's easier for me that way, plus I can adapt it so that it fits with the story. Yeah, okay, basically, just think of the school as a stage setting that constantly gets adapted to fulfill my needs. Say I need a pool in a library, I will have a pool in a library. (Shameless Doctor Who reference right there. Sorry.)**

**I'm planning on adding most of the Glee characters over the course of the story – if I can fit them in, that is. It'll all be AU, though, so if you have any suggestions as to how the characters can come in, please, feel free to leave me suggestions in a review or a private message, or even my Tumblr (ninjasatemybrain).**

**Also; the piece Blaine plays is Beethoven's 14th sonata, or commonly known as Moonlight Sonata (if you paste this to the end of the Youtube url, you should be able to listen to the full song, in case anyone wants to listen to it. Which I highly recommend, by the way | watch?v=4Tr0otuiQuU&feature=fvwrel). I chose this because I'm learning it myself and it's actually my favorite piece of music. So yeah, there ya go.**

**Oh, and I had wanted to mention this in the previous chapter, but I somehow forgot: thanks so much to everyone that has reviewed, alerted, favorited, liked (on Tumblr) or just read this story, it means a lot.**

**And now I'll stop this already absurdly long author's note and leave you guys in peace. Enjoy.**

* * *

Blaine had been aching to play ever since his first class this morning. He'd been having trouble keeping his fingers - twitching as if mimicking the actual playing - in control, and on top of that his left foot had started tapping along somewhere close to fifteen minutes ago.

He'd been forgotten what it was like not being able to play whenever he had the urge to do just that.

That's why he hastily scrambled all of his belongings together as class was dismissed, quickly unfolding his cane as he got up and left the room. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't meant to rush. Unlike his fellow classmates, he wouldn't know to slow down when there was something oncoming blocking his path, because the cane only helped to a certain extent. But he chose to ignore that fact right now.

Some days he'd actually ask help from a friend - and classmate - that sat next to him on a regular basis in some of his music theory classes. Tina didn't mind helping out, and would gladly lend him an arm and walk him to his next class, the cafeteria, a piano, to the park... Sometimes she'd walk him home if she didn't have any other classes to attend and he was done for the day. They'd always talk about music, or the arts in general. It never got too personal, though, she didn't want to ask him, and he felt it would be impolite to ask her.

Funny how he'd only met her about a month go. Even though they didn't know much about each others personal lives, it felt like they'd known each other for years. Or that's what it felt like to Blaine, at least, as he couldn't really get the gist of what was going on inside her head. He liked her nonetheless, though, she had a tranquil and earnest voice.

It didn't take him all too long to find his way over to one of the many music rooms, to luckily find himself all alone. Just the way he liked it. He didn't mind having people watching him play, but knowing that there was no one around, that he solely playing for himself, was what he liked best.

He sat down on the bench in front of the grand piano, but not before carelessly dropping his cane next to him onto the floor and taking off his sunglasses to put them away. He didn't want to wear sunglasses while playing, as he didn't like wearing them in the first place. It also made him feel like he showed disrespect if he kept them on - even though he didn't know who he disrespected in the first place doing that.

As soon as he was seated, his hands reached out for the piano keys, hands hovering over them as he moved his arms both left and right until he'd explored both sides and had reached the end. His fingers felt their way back toward the center of the keys, soon finding the middle C as he located the little engraving that marked the name of the piano maker.

His hands found the right position immediately, digits still hesitantly hovering over the keys as if he wasn't sure. It took him one, two, three slow and steady breaths until his hands simultaneously pressed the keys – his left hand presenting a double octave, and a triplet figuration on the right.

As if on cue, his body visibly relaxed, and all that his mind could process were the notes the piano produced.

* * *

Mike had finally mastered that awful routine that didn't seem to be memorizable. It had taken so, so much long hours, falling, internal swearwords... And then one midnight he'd managed to perform it as a whole in front of his mirror and _God_, suddenly he found it miraculously easy to crash onto his bed and fall asleep in mere seconds.

He couldn't describe how relieved he felt when he woke up the next morning, for the first time in a week having slept without being woken up by nightmares. Yes, the dancing was now affecting his dreams too. And not in a good way.

But his dreaming had been relatively peaceful ever since that one night, and Mike suddenly felt like his regular self again. That's why he wasn't spending his day locked inside, practicing. He wanted to enjoy the day outside. Or, more precisely, away from anything related to his daily commitments. It was a Friday, after all. Maybe he could finally use his weekend to spend it with some of his friends.

Of course he'd known right away who he could spend the day with. It had been way too long since he'd last had an official gaming night with the guys. Surely, they all understood, most of them were quite busy themselves with school. But he couldn't even recall who won their last game of Call of Duty, and that just didn't sit right with him at all.

So first he'd wait for Sam. The guy had told him to meet him at room 104, which was one of the music rooms, one of the combined rooms, actually, as it was also regularly used by those from the dance department whenever they needed live music to accompany them. More live music than normally, at least. He supposed it was more of a collaboration between both departments, as both music and dance students worked tightly together in those rooms.

Although, yes, the dancing had been the number one reason for Mike to spend a week in a constant state of feeling on the verge of a nervous breakdown, he'd actually come half an hour early just to relax and do some improvising. He hadn't done much today, dance wise, at least, there'd been a lot talking and explaining in his classes. Which was okay, but Mike could only sit still for so long. So that's why he decided he'd use the half an hour to do what he loved most.

Upon arriving, he dropped his backpack - containing some games he'd brought along from his place, plus a set of spare clothes that would be more suitable to dance in - to the floor and found his way to the center of the room.

His eyes wandered over to an expensive looking stereo set up in one of the corners of the room, but decided he didn't need any music to accompany him. And then his eyes closed and his body started moving, and all that his mind could register was the smooth floor underneath his feet and feeling of complete... satisfaction.

Mike's feet moved in unison, knees bending as he jumped up in the air, turning his body midair and landing gracefully on his feet, his moves now close to what would be considered ballet. And then somewhere halfway into another jump, his style changed to hip hop, and back to ballet, a mix of the two and suddenly it wasn't a style anymore – it was just Mike, and Mike alone.

And he danced. Time flew by, and before he knew it a familiar noise pulled him out of his concentration.

He stopped dancing, body stiffening at the instant as he stood up straight and tilted his head to face the door.

The noise, a distinctive ticking noise, _where had he heard it before?_

In only a few seconds, a figure appeared at the door and Mike got an answer to his question. His eyes grew wide, and he was almost waiting for the guy to look up at him and say something. Of course, then he remembered the guy was blind, and wouldn't notice he had company unless Mike would tell him.

Mike backed away toward the mirror, watching Blaine get around with such ease that he almost forgot the guy didn't know what was in front of him.

He meant to say something. Let his presence known because he didn't think it was fair to spy on the boy. Se he moved toward Blaine and opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again as the first piano notes drifted through the room.

The dancer watched him play throughout the first movement, gaze fixed on Blaine's hands, moving steadily, never once dropping a note or messing up the timing.

Mike recognized his behavior immediately. This song, the piano playing in general... he'd been doing this his whole life. It reminded him of himself. He too had been dancing for so long he couldn't remember not doing it.

The only difference between Mike and Blaine was that Mike's skills were nothing compared to Blaine's. Because what the dancer was witnessing was pure devotion, _so_ much devotion. The curly haired boy couldn't see, yet his hands flew past the keys with such determination that Mike didn't know what to think.

After a smooth transition, Blaine was now engaged in the seconds movement. The boy sat up straight again, after having leaned forward while playing, his look of utter concentration relaxing slightly as the lighthearted notes danced through the room.

Mike actually knew the piece - his father had made him listen to classical music when he was just a little boy. Even though the dancer had forgotten about most of the composers and their music, some of them, his favorites, would stay with him forever. This sonata had been one of his favorites – the first movement in particular. The second didn't do much for him, and the third... he just didn't understand the third one.

He listened throughout second movement, not really listening to the music, but rather studying Blaine's movements, finding himself in complete awe.

Soon enough, Blaine commenced the third, and last, movement. Mike's mouth fell agape.

The dancer found himself edging closer to the piano and the pianist, peeking over the guy's shoulder, staring at the rapidly moving hands as if he were hypnotized.

But then he got distracted by a familiar prickling feeling in his nose, his eyes tearing up as he tried to hold it back. His efforts were futile. Mike sneezed.

As if stung by a bee, Blaine's playing was abruptly put to a halt, smashing his clenched fists onto the keys, to which a string of false notes filled the room. He turned around, gripping the edge of the bench with both hands.

"Who's there? Do you think it's _funny_ to sneak up on someone like that?"

His eyes had widened, giving the other boy the opportunity to get a good look at the guy's eyes for the first time since they'd met. Because of the sunglasses, Mike had always thought Blaine would have the scary, dead looking eyes, presenting that blue kind of color that his former pet dog's – who'd been going blind at the time – eyes had gotten too. But Blaine's eyes were absolutely beautiful.

Because of the hazel eyes staring at a spot below his chin, Mike couldn't quite form proper words. There was this glassy stare in the pair of eyes, but it only made them look more beautiful. Sad, but beautiful nonetheless. It left him dumbfounded, and that while he couldn't even say for certain _why_.

"Please, don't play games with me, I'm not in the mood for this right now," Blaine stated calmly, although Mike caught a hint of something he couldn't quite place. Fear, perhaps?

Then the dancer seemed to remember how to speak, so he cleared his throat and bit his lip in guilt. "I-I'm _so_ sorry, I truly didn't mean to scare you, or sneak up on you like that, honestly. I was going to speak up, but then you started playing and I-" Mike's words died down as he didn't know how to continue, instead looking at the floor, away from the piercing glare.

Blaine's eyebrows knitted together as he tried to put a name with the voice. He was certain he'd heard it before. But _where?_ As he heard the shuffling of feet and the guy cleared his throat again – he was almost certain whomever had startled him was nervous – he averted his eyes, his head now cast downward. He didn't know who was standing opposite of him, but he knew right away that said person didn't have any bad intentions. At least, that was what his intuition told him – and he'd come to read voices quite easily; the voice sounded genuine.

"It's okay," Blaine sighed, shrugging lightly, "It happens."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have scared you like that. I'm sorry, again." He looked back up, to see that the boy had now hung his head and Mike could no longer get a good look at the hazel eyes.

Blaine shook his head, hastily showing a smile as if to reassure the intruder, "Again, _it's okay_. Don't worry about it."

Mike nodded slowly, although he still wore a troubled expression, feeling guilty as ever. "You play beautifully."

"Thank you." He cursed the faint blush that he could feel creeping up onto his face. He'd gotten compliments before, yet never seemed to get used to it, almost feeling awkward after receiving one.

Blaine furrowed his brows, realizing he still hadn't figured out who the voice belonged to, even though it sounded familiar to him. "I hope you don't mind answering my question, but who are you?"

He knew that he couldn't tell his own name. Having screwed up once around Blaine was bad enough, and didn't want to worsen the image the guy had of him in the first place.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," and he desperately tried to imagine his contact list on his phone, scrolling through the names in search for a good one, "Puck. My name's Puck."

Puck? He couldn't recall ever meeting a guy with that name. So maybe the voice of his unexpected visitor just sounded like one that he knew. Yeah, that must've been it, because he was sure he'd remember a name like that. "Nice to meet you, Puck. I'm Blaine."

"It's nice to meet you too." And he shook the hand that was offered to him.

"So I have another question that I hope you don't mind answering... What are you doing here?" Blaine rose his eyebrows questioningly, not sure what answer to expect.

"I was just-" Mike furrowed his eyebrows. He'd probably give away too much if he told the guy he'd been dancing. But he didn't like lying anymore than he already had, so he backed away toward his backpack and slung it over his shoulder after he'd grabbed it. "I have to go. Sorry, again, for scaring you."

"But..." before he could even finish his sentence, he heard footsteps storm past him and the fumbling of a zipper, soon followed by a sound like something heavy had fallen onto the ground.

Mike had dropped a key hanger, that had once dangled from one of the zippers, as he tried to close his bag. Because of his sudden urge to get out, he didn't even notice that it had come off; his priority was to get out of the room and stop himself from making the situation any worse, not to pay attention to any personal stuff he might've left behind.

Blaine got off the bench, grabbing his cane as he got up again. He took a few tentative steps toward the exit, moving his cane left, right, and then left again, in a slow, swaying motion, until it hit something.

He crouched down, hands searching the floor, hoping he was searching the right area, soon closing his fingers around the cool metal of a key hanger. Trailing his fingers over the smooth surface, he soon discovered that something was engraved in it. It was, however, too shallow to distinguish any letters.

"You dropped your-" but he realized it was of no use. The boy had already vanished.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry to keep you guys waiting for so long. I've been dealing with a dead laptop, school, writers blocks and laziness. And sorry for the spelling errors that are probably lurking throughout the story. I know I should reread a chapter when I'm not tired, but I only seem to be able to finish a chapter way past midnight and then I don't have the patience to wait until I'm not sleep deprived anymore.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Mike left the building faster than he'd ever thought was possible. Almost flying through the hallways, bumping into people blocking his path... He didn't acknowledge any of it. At least not until he'd breathed in fresh air and had sunken down onto a bench.

As soon as he was seated, he groaned and leaned forward, hiding his head in his hands.

Why couldn't he have introduced himself using his own name? What was the worst that could've happened? He could've made a fool of himself. But was that worth lying for?

Not really. It wasn't fair to Blaine, was it? Blaine couldn't do anything about the sudden nerves that Mike had felt just now and when they'd first met. Mike didn't know where they came from. Yes, maybe he wasn't the most outgoing person, but he was in general quite laid back. He at least knew it wasn't like him at all to act like he had.

If only he knew what caused it and how to stop it. Because it wasn't only a bother to himself. He was certain it wasn't all too much of a delight to Blaine either. Had it been only himself that got affected by the awkwardness, he wouldn't have felt the need to change things. Blaine, however, didn't deserve such treatment.

He then realized he was probably overreacting just a bit. Yes, they'd met twice now, but the only thing they had in common was Sam, right? They didn't necessarily have to run into each other again. Meaning that Mike was worrying over nothing, because why would he have to change anything if there was nothing left to change?

About to get up, he slung his bag over his shoulder again. However, he found himself glued to the bench as he watched a familiar figure emerge from main hall, glasses back in place and holding a tight grip on his cane.

Mike studied the boy, hypnotized, gaze fixed on the end of the cane, swaying left and right.

He couldn't imagine what it was like for him. To put so much trust in people without being able to see them. To have a cane as your only way to have the slightest knowledge of what was coming ahead. And that was only the physical aspect. Emotionally, it'd probably be just as hard. Although Mike couldn't even begin to comprehend what it'd feel like to be tied up in Blaine's shoes, and probably never would.

Blaine was a strong. And he probably didn't even realize it.

A girl approached him from the back, slipping her hand through his arm and curling hers around it. She said something to him, to which Blaine's face broke off into a cheeky smile.

Mike only realized he was gawking as a hand was waved in front of his face and he heard the snap of fingers. Shaking his head, pulling himself out of his daze, he looked up at a stupidly smiling Sam, seemingly oblivious to what Mike had been doing previously.

"Hey man, weren't you supposed to meet me inside?" the blond asked, raising his brows a little as he settled onto the bench next to Mike.

"Yeah, I-" he shook his head again, shrugging, "I just needed some fresh air. Sorry, did I make you wait?"

Sam negated, already moving to get up, "'s okay. I was actually just on my way to meet you at 104 when I saw you staring awkwardly into outer space."

His friend's face displayed a wide grin as he grabbed Mike's hand and forcefully pulled him to his feet, "Were you high or something?"

"What do you mean?" Mike looked puzzled, having completely missed the jokingly tone in Sam's voice.

Sam chuckled, once again shaking his head, "That was a joke, Mike. It is _okay_ to laugh, y'know. Cracking a smile won't make your face break, you should try it some time."

"Oh, shut up, not all of us can muster the energy to be on constant look-out for your stupid jokes." He playfully nudged his friend in the ribs, now that they were up and walking. "We're going to Finn's, right?"

Sam confirmed, nodding vaguely.

"Well then, race you to his doorstep?" Mike didn't need any confirmation on that one, already bolting away from the guy next to him, laughing cheerfully.

"Last one to arrive is a loser!" And Sam too started running, trying to keep up with Mike, even though the bastard had a head start and obviously had put that to good use.

* * *

Somehow, the two of them had managed to arrive on Finn's doorstep at the exact same time. Which, obviously, led to the two of them arguing about who had won.

"Just give it up already, Sam," Mike argued, groaning, "You _know_ I was faster, you _know_ it. _Stop being so stubborn_!"

Sam sighed loudly, wildly shaking his head, "Shut up, shut up, _shut up_! You're _such_ a liar. _I _was faster."

They were interrupted by the loud whistling of someone leaning over the window sill above them, trying to stop the fight from turning into something physical. Something that had happened many, many times, even though people always thought Mike was too well-mannered to do such thing. "Cut it out, you guys. I'm sure you both won, just get up here already, okay?"

The two friends stared up at Finn, still leaning out of his window, and sighed in unison.

"_You're not my mother_," Sam muttered under his breath. But Finn did cause the guys to temporarily forget what they were fighting about.

Finn disappeared, and it was only seconds later that both Mike and Sam were startled by the loud buzzer that indicated the door was unlocked. Sam pushed it open, shoving Mike out of the way, determined to win their race up the sets of stairs.

Mike tripped once, Sam twice, the last one resulting in him literally falling into Finn's tiny apartment. Victory. They'd hurt themselves way more severe during other occurrences like these, it was safe to say they'd both managed to come out of their competition pretty much unharmed.

"I won."

"By half a second, don't give me that triumphant look, Evans, I'll get back at you for this. Just you wait." The dancer stepped over Sam's still splayed out body and went straight for the couch, to sit down on an armrest and give Puck a pat on the back.

"What took you so long?" Puck didn't even look away from the TV, being far too fixated on his video game to pay attention to his surroundings.

Sam scrambled to his feet with a groan and joined the two of them. "We were racing each other to the doorstep."

"Another bitch fight?" Puck rolled his eyes.

"Sort of," Mike shrugged.

Before Puck could comment on that – which usually meant he called them "a bunch of pussies", or something along those lines – he got interrupted by Finn, who threw a bottle of beer his way and sat down on the other armrest.

After handing a beer to his two newest guests, he smiled apologetically, "So normally I'd have enough snacks for a week. But today, _someone_..." An irritated glance was cast toward the still frantically playing guy, followed by a disapproving snort, "Ate everything, and now we've run out. I'll head to the store in a bit."

"I can do that," the dancer offered, without a second thought.

Finn shook his head, "No, that's okay, I can-"

"I'll do it," Mike insisted, already getting up and placing his beer onto the coffee-table.

"No, no, I should," the other said, getting up too.

"Just let him have his way. I mean, he's Asian. Aren't they all well-mannered and stuff? He'll probably stab your eyes out with his chopsticks if you don't let him go," Puck chipped in, still not averting his gaze from the screen.

Mike raised his brows, "I'm pretty sure that's racist."

Puck only shrugged.

"I'll go," Mike grinned, grabbing his wallet out of the backpack he'd dropped next to the couch earlier on. "Any special favors?"

"Food," came from three different mouths, in perfect unison.

"Anything besides the obvious," he amended.

When the only answer he got was silence, he nodded, turning his back to his friends as he distanced himself from them, "Got it. Food. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Don't take too long," Puck called after him, "I'm starving."

And that was exactly the reason that Mike decided he'd take extra long to gather whatever he was going to load up on. He could handle Puck's _somewhat_ rude manners, finding it only highly amusing, rather than just plain rude, but teasing him was always fun. _Especially_ when there was food involved.

Altogether it took him about a minute or two to find his way to the closest grocery store. He headed straight for the shelves that held bags of chips and reached out for a bag of barbecue flavored ones. He tucked it under his arm as his sudden crave for chocolate forced him to go to another aisle and load up on the more sweeter kind of snacks.

Before he actually got the chance to get his hands on some chocolate bars, his eye caught sight of a guy standing perfectly still, hands gripping onto-

Mike groaned, hiding his face in the bag of chips he'd tucked under his arm just recently.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, now turning his body to one of the shelves holding chocolate bars, resting his forehead against the one that was at eye level. Groaning once more, he whipped his head around as someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sir?"

He looked down at a store clerk, smiling sheepishly because he realized now probably wasn't the best time to yet again make a fool of himself.

"I was just- chocolate, you know... So many brands, too much to choose from," he muttered, gesturing toward the plethora of cavity-inducing food.

The store clerk turned to leave him to make his own choice, to which Mike's gaze wandered off to capture sight of the person he'd seen just moments ago. The aisle was empty, however, and left the dancer wondering if he'd simply imagined it. _Most likely_.

Blindly making a grab at the first chocolate bar within reach, he then exited the aisle to turn into the one he'd previously visited to load up on more snacks.

He didn't even get the chance to take another look at the different kind of flavors. Instead, whatever drew his attention from the corner of his eye seemed to force him to look up and away from the snacks.

So he hadn't been imagining it. Blaine really had been standing in the other aisle moments ago, and was now, once again, standing in the same aisle Mike was in. That alone shouldn't have mattered to Mike. It happened often that he ran into people he knew. But there was something about the guy that made him stare, and he felt guilty for staring like a creeper, so he did everything in his power to look elsewhere.

Of course, he wasn't quite able to do just that, and he ended up staring just as intently as he had before.

He watched Blaine take a step back as two chatting customers passed by, casting his head downward as he waited for the two to pass. For whatever reason, he lifted up his left hand to self consciously tug at the collar of his shirt – obviously feeling as if someone were watching him – and simultaneously turned his body to the left. The move resulted in swiping bags of chips off the shelves and onto the floor with his elbow, leaving him to bend down and try to locate the bags he'd dropped.

Mike looked pained, torn between deciding whether he should help him or let him figure it out on his own. It'd be polite to help. Yet maybe Blaine would get the wrong idea and assume he received help because of his visual handicap. But he couldn't just keep on staring and not offer his help, now could he?

He mustered up all the courage he could find and took a few tentative steps toward the boy, who looked up at the sound of nearing footsteps but kept his mouth shut.

_Would you like any help?_ No. Too... _formal_.

_Can I help you out?_ No. That definitely sounded like he felt sorry for Blaine.

"Let me help you," he blurted out, before even being able to process it, already bending down next to Blaine and grabbing a bag in each hand.

Blaine's brows rose in curiosity, to then cast his head downward and shake it furiously. "I can handle it."

Mike shook his head, too, smiling carefully, "Please, let me help you. It's no big deal."

The boy looked as if he was about to protest, but he eventually just continued searching the floor, grabbing the bags as he stumbled across them. He rose to his feet, carrying one arm full of bags, stretching his other arm in front of him as he tried to figure out where the snacks had come from.

Mike, after grabbing hold of a fair amount of bags, too, followed Blaine's lead. He put the food on its respective shelf, to then glance over at the guy next to him. "Here," he hesitantly took hold of the outstretched hand, guiding it toward the right place, "That's where they belong."

"Thanks," he smiled, getting rid of the snacks.

He went to bend down again, but Mike stopped him from doing so, squatting down himself and snatching the few remaining ones from the floor. Getting up, he put them with the others, "Done."

"Thank you. Again," Blaine nodded, his smile growing just a tad wider. His eyebrows knitted together, leaving the dancer to wonder what was up. "Excuse me, but have we met before?"

He thought he'd caught a hint of familiarity in the voice of whomever had helped him out. Putting a name with the voice, however...

Mike didn't even dare to give himself time to think it through again, trying to avoid introducing himself as one of his friends once again. "We have. I'm-"

"Mike? Hi!"

The boy looked up at the sound of a female voice he knew very well, smiling as his eyes met those of Tina. "Hey, Tina."

The two shared a quick hug, after which Tina took her spot beside Blaine and patted him on the arm, "Are you okay?"

Blaine, whose facial expression had turned into one of doubt, quickly shook his head and forced a smile to playfully tug at his lips. "Of course."

"I didn't know you guys were friends?" Tina looked over at Mike curiously, to then let her eyes linger over Blaine's face.

"We-" Mike began.

"I'm not sure if-" Blaine started, at the same exact time.

"We met once, because Sam introduced us. I was just helping out Blaine, 's all," the Asian finally explained, shrugging.

Blaine nodded, smiling thankfully once more. "Are _you_ guys friends?"

The two of them exchanged glances, Tina started chuckling after a short while. The smaller boy turned toward the source of the chuckle, his brows raising questioningly.

"Sort of," Mike finally admitted, grinning sheepishly, "We share an awkward memory, it's hard not to become friends after something like that."

After another glance was thrown back and forth between them, forcing a muffled laugh from Mike this time, he bent down to pick up the snacks he meant to take home, seeming to have remembered that he had hungry friends waiting for his return. "I need to go. There are a couple of starving... toddlers... waiting for me to provide them with food. It was nice running into you again, Blaine, Tina. I'll see you guys later."

Blaine smiled, Tina waved, and Mike turned around and hurried into another aisle.

So that'd gone better than before. He hadn't been the cause of an awkward silence, nor had he felt uncomfortable – except for when, of course, he'd been contemplating whether it'd be wise to help Blaine out or if that would just make it seem like he pitied the guy. He knew he was probably just blowing it out of proportions, but he couldn't help but wonder what Blaine had thought of Mike lending a hand. Maybe he didn't think any of it, maybe it didn't even cross his mind that some would only offer their help because they felt sorry.

Mike sighed. Of course something like that would've crossed his mind. But did it really matter? Why did he even take the time to get hopelessly caught up in all of this? They weren't even friends.

Hell, last time they'd met, Blaine hadn't even been aware of it because _someone_ had felt too awkward to use their own name. What was up with that, anyway?

Mike wasn't stupid. Far from it. He knew perfectly well that he was quite the introvert person. In general, it took him some time to get out of his shell and actively participate in a conversation with someone he'd just met. But never had he felt so shy he saw the need to lie about his identity.

Then all he could do was wonder what was so special about the blind boy that provoked such unfamiliar feelings from the Asian. He sincerely wished he knew, and better yet, how to stop it from happening again, and again, and again, and again...


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm so, so sorry for the delay. I posted somewhat of a spoiler on my Tumblr to sort of, hopefully, make up for it. If you haven't seen it yet, you should either browse the Bike Chanderson tag until you find it, or you can go to my Tumblr (ninjasatemybrain) and go to my Bike Chanderson or personal tag for the story (I'm currently using ydkyb as the tag for this story, whenever I have something to announce. You should be on the lookout, because I might post more spoilers).**

**Having that said, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. I wanted to explore some of Mike and Tina's past, so, yeah, that's what this chapter's for. I'd like to apologize in advance for Tina's characterization in this story. She might be a little ooc, but this is the way I like portraying her.**

* * *

"So... how did you guys meet?" Blaine asked casually.

The two of them were out in the park. Blaine sitting on a bench, Tina stretched out on top of it, head resting on Blaine's lap. They'd decided staying outside would be a better way to pass time than to hide indoors.

It was a beautiful day, after all.

Not that Blaine could see it. But he could definitely hear it—the laughter, the general happiness that days like these brought along—smell it, feel it. He could witness it with each of his senses, except for the key one. It saddened him. He hadn't been able to capture any sunlight and beautiful days since...

He felt her shrug. "Um... well." A bubble of laughter rose from the girl laying down, to which Blaine's brows rose. Apparently it was a rather funny story.

"Yes?" he asked, when no answer came, except for quiet chuckles that erupted from her every few seconds.

"You see, I'm Asian."

Blaine nodded, although he didn't have the slightest clue how that was an explanation to how they'd met. The crease that'd formed between his brows deepened slightly.

"And Mike's Asian, too," she continued.

Again, Blaine nodded. So he'd been told. But what did that have anything to do with how they'd come to meet?

"You could say that both of our parents are somewhat... _traditional_. They want us to, you know, settle down with an Asian boy-girl in Mike's case—have Asian babies, followed by Asian grandchildren... You get my drift. So they set us up for a date. A blind—excuse me—date."

Blaine shrugged. "No need to apologize."

Tina sat up, turning her body to face him as she folded her legs underneath her. She made a grab for the can of coke that she'd put on the ground, taking a swig and putting it down again. "So we both showed up. At an, guess what, Asian restaurant."

"How did it go? You guys obviously aren't dating, since, you know..." he trailed off. Just because they didn't know a lot about each other didn't mean they hardly ever talked. She'd told him random things, had mentioned meeting, and liking, a guy that she had come across at school. Of course, maybe Mike and Tina had dated before that, but it just hadn't worked out.

It made him wonder why he was even curious in first place. It didn't matter who Mike dated, right? He frowned. Who _Tina_ dated, he corrected himself. His frown only carved itself deeper into his flesh, as he thought about his odd slip up, shaking his head in mild confusion.

It was Tina's cheery laugh that shook him out of his thoughts. "We talked. Compared our parents. Made bets on whose were worse—Mike won. And that was all there was to that night."

"But there's more?" Blaine guessed.

"There's more," she confirmed.

* * *

"_How did it go, sweetheart?" her mother asked, looking up from the book she'd been reading. Tina couldn't make out what book it was, but the worn cover and cracked spine said enough: it was clearly one of her favorites._

"_Okay." Tina strutted into the living room, knowing there was no way out of this conversation. Might as well get it over with now._

"_Well, don't hold back," she urged, closing the book and placing it in her lap as she looked up at her daughter with a both curious and expectant look. "What was he like?"_

_Tina shrugged, lowering herself onto the couch opposite of the armchair her mother was occupying. "You know... nice and," _Asian_, she added in her mind, almost sighing afterward. "And... a gentleman. I guess?" she continued, trying to find the right words that'd please her mother._

_Apparently she had, because her mother nodded enthusiastically. From the look on her face, Tina deduced she was probably already mapping out the wedding. "Go on?"_

"_I—I don't know. He's a nice guy. But half an hour of having dinner together doesn't really give you the right amount of time to get to know each other." Tina shrugged again, not sure if she should be honest or if a big fat lie would suffice. The latter seemed wiser. She forced the biggest smile she could manage, feeling her cheeks burn with both shame and annoyance. "He has potential, though."_

_After beaming a smile, her mother clasped her hands together, resting them on top of her book. "Then I have good news for you, dear."_

_Her eyes widened, smile faltering, knowing her scheme hadn't gone as she hoped it would. Why did she ever think lies would work? They never worked out in her favor. _Oh, god, no. Please, please, please. Don't-

"_We'll be seeing the Chang's on Saturday," she announced, excitedly. She went on, but Tina stopped listening, leaning back against the couch, sighing. Just her luck, of course._

"_Great, mom," she said, not even trying to fake excitement. She got up. "I'm gonna go to my room. Discuss my... date," the word on its own made her want to huff in annoyance, "with my friends."_

_It seemingly didn't matter Tina didn't look all too thrilled, her mother nodded happily nonetheless. "Have fun."_

* * *

_Tina stood awkwardly alongside the massive garden that was filled with people. She knew most of them. From the Asian community, of course._

_She didn't mind going to parties, but she hated this kind. The kind were the adults were having oh-so important conversations about their work, the weather, their children's achievements, new cars, a new kitchen, their recently mowed lawn... And where their children, that were, for _some_ reason, always spoiled brats, ran around with sticky hands because they'd spilled their glass of lemonade._

_Tina, of course, was basically held captive every time by the latter, forced to entertain the minors by singing, dancing, or whatever held their fancy. She normally didn't really mind the entertaining, but right now she did. And why? Because _he_ was doing the same. She didn't like the stares, encouraging smiles and nudges in the back from her parents, telling her that 'oh, darling, look who's there! You should say hello' and things along those lines._

_When he looked up and smiled at her and her mother felt the need to point it out to her in a loud whisper that could be heard from across the lawn, Tina gave up being the stubborn daughter. "I'll be right back," she muttered, leaving to meet Mike._

"_Take your time, honey," her mom spoke, _again_, irritatingly loud._

"_Yeah, yeah," Tina waved, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath. When she'd gotten herself out of this mess, she'd promise herself not to ever lie to her parents again. Bad things like these were bound to happen when she lied._

_Mike looked up from the children. He was still smiling, or smiling again, she wasn't sure. But she was definitely envious of his way to handle the situation. Like everything was just peachy and he wasn't almost forced into a relationship. "Hi, Tina."_

"_Hey yourself."_

_She sat down next to him in the grass, awkwardly rubbing her hand on her thigh, feeling the stares from her parents burn holes in her back._

"_So you haven't told them." It wasn't even a question. They both knew it was true._

"_Told them what? That we both know we will only ever be friends, that they should stick it where the sun never shines like we promised each other we would, or that there's a guy that I like that _isn't_ Asian?" The tone of her voice sounded flat and she sighed for what felt like the millionth time since she'd arrived at the party._

_Mike patted her knee reassuringly, smiling a vague smile. "It's okay. I haven't either."_

"_We're going to hell for lying to them, aren't we?"_

"_I'm sure we'll be alright."_

_She looked up, hoping to catch his eye, but he wasn't looking at her. She turned around, trying to follow his gaze, eyeing a couple that were probably Mike's parents. "Are those yours?" she asked, turning back to look at him and raise her brow questioningly. "They look, um... nice." The look on his dad's face was a stern one. His mother seemed to be studying them with mild interest, waving when she noticed Tina's glance. Tina decided that his mom was probably okay. His dad, however... He was exactly like Mike had told her._

_He nodded. "If it's any consolation; they mean well. So do your parents."_

"_When has _well_ ever treated anyone right? I wish they'd stop breathing down my neck."_

_Mike could only shrug in response._

"_So what are we going to do now? We can't just keep pretending we're bonding here."_

_The boy took his time, staring down at the ground and picking at the grass. She was about to disrupt the silence when he looked up again. He seemed to be contemplating whether to tell her what he was thinking of or if it'd be best to discard the idea right away._

_Tina opened her mouth again, clearing her throat. "Mind thinking out loud here? I don't want to force you to anything here, but we're currently being watched by all four of them and I'm seriously getting creeped out. I'll do something about it myself if you don't, I'm warning you."_

_Mike nodded quickly, "Of course. Sorry. I just... who says we can't?"_

_When he didn't continue, still looking very much thoughtful, she continued herself. "Would you care to elaborate? Who says we can't _what_?"_

"_Can't pretend. That we _are_ having a thing here."_

"_But we're not. We'll just get into a greater mess, Mike. How are we going to talk our way out of this? We can't just lie about feeling a spark and then one day come home telling them it didn't work out. They'll know we've been lying to them." Tina crossed her arms over her chest, huffing. Guys could never handle this sort of thing. Didn't have the brains to figure it out. _Always_ left it to women to clean up the mess._

"_Not if we friend zone each other," Mike spoke, shrugging. When Tina raised a brow, looking skeptical, he continued hastily, "I'm not a fan of lying. And I believe we don't actually have to lie. We can just... keep things from them."_

"_Which is a fancy way to say you're actually just lying."_

_Mike raised a hand, gesturing her to let him finish. "We'll tell them we like each other. While we both know what we mean by that, they'll hear what they've been meaning to hear. We let them urge us to meet up again, and so we will. When it's over, and they're dying to hear how it went, we'll tell them we've been friend zoned by each other."_

_Tina stayed quiet for a while, contemplating his plan. She shook her head firmly. The idea could probably work out, yes, but it'd take too long. She wanted to get rid of Mike now, not in a week or so. She couldn't handle another week of meaningful glances and whispers _every_ time she walked by one of her parents. "Your plan sucks."_

_He sighed, shrugging and bringing his hands up to rub his forehead tiredly. "Well then, have you got a better idea? Because I don't."_

"_I got it covered, don't worry." And with that, she jumped to her feet, looking so angered Mike unconsciously inched away from her._

"_Oh, my god! You _can't_ just say things like that! Are you _that_ stupid?" Tina began, her voice loud, booming throughout the garden. Their parents turned away hurriedly when they noticed Tina's piercing glare, pretending to be engaged in a conversation with one another._

"You_," she turned to the guy, who was still looking wide eyed and blinking stupidly, pointing her finger at him as if he were a rodent, "are _disgusting._"_

_Mike's parents had turned to look at their son, facial expressions wearing the same, identical questioningly looks. In response, he shook his head, shrugging, finding it easy to look clueless because he _was_ in fact as clueless as he'd ever been._

"Vampires are real_!" And with that she dramatically turned around, her dress violently waving around her legs as she did so, the fabric almost slapping him in the face, leaving and glaring at anyone that dared to so much as look at her._

* * *

"You _actually_ did that?" Blaine asked, incredulously. Throughout her story, his expressions had varied from humored to understanding and back. Right now, however, he wore one of awe.

Tina laughed, nodding frantically, "Yessir." She was still very much proud of what she'd done. Her parents, well, not so much. For some, just _awfully weird_, reason they hadn't tried to set her up with anyone ever again. Something about having ruined her own reputation as a normal and intelligent, very much _down to earth,_ girl. Mike was, undoubtedly, forever thankful, his parents hadn't even tried to get him to make things right with her and surprisingly gave him a chance to find a girl himself.

"You're my new heroine, Tina."

"You should see my cape," she smiled, patting the back of his hand, "It's got fangs painted all over it. In human blood, of course."

Blaine rolled his eyes fondly. "You're also a nut job."

She only shrugged, nodding in agreement. "I try."

"So you're more into supernatural stuff than I thought, hm?"

Tina snorted, "Wait until you hear the story of how I've scarred my headmaster for life."

And she began a new tale, her eyes lightening up as she twisted her words until it didn't just sound like her past, but more of a fairy tale in itself.

Blaine listened intently, a cheery laugh leaving his lips every now and then, looking joyful, relaxed... He couldn't see the beautiful day. But he could definitely hear and feel it and witness it with every fiber of his being. And that was enough. He probably saw more of it than he was actually aware of.

* * *

**I'll try to have the next chapter up sooner. Feel free to kick my ass if more than, let's say... a week... has passed without so much as an update. Thanks for reading, and for those who have stuck around even though my update rate is screwed up.**


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